Choosing Bash
by GypsySilk
Summary: What happens if Mary chose Bash in 1x13. Starts at the graveyard scene and goes AU from there. Also acts as a continuation of my in progress fic Crooked Path, which will cover canon through 1x12. As in the show, the wedding is only the start. MASH will have to face much more intrigue, plotting, and scheming and will fight for their future. Other characters appear often too.
1. Chapter 1: Epiphany

**Epiphany**

Mary was tense until she cleared the castle grounds. Her heart was beating rapidly but she had to trot her horse at a gentle gait. No-one could suspect she was running away again – and just like the last time, with Bash. But still, it was all so different than the last time.

When she finally cleared the grounds and entered onto the wooded path, she immediately spurred her horse into a gallop. The racing horse seemed to sense her mood, and as she leaned forward into the wind, both of them striving toward what lay in front of them. Mary felt some of the tension melting away. Bash was waiting for her at the little church.

When she rounded the side of the hill and the little graveyard came into view, she experienced a pang of disappointment. Where was he? But she quickly registered that there were _two_ horses there – and then saw the brothers squabbling on the ground. All the tension dropped back on her shoulders like a load of cannonballs.

"Stop, stop!" she cried. And then there she was, literally as well as figuratively standing between them, and there was a hint of desperation on both men's faces. Her heart sunk even more. Her heart was still pounding from the ride and from the adrenaline of breaking up the fight, and it was hard to hear through the ringing in her ears from the blood pumping through them. Francis was telling her something – telling her that the prophecy was false – and she couldn't believe it – but his face told her that he wasn't lying. The prophecy . . . she could marry Francis.

And suddenly, just like that, the ringing cleared, and certainty fell on her like a blanket. All the weight of worry on her shoulders lifted. She knew. She knew what she wanted.

As her mind slowly focused outwardly on the two men before her, she realized that this needed to be handled carefully. The man she was going to reject was dangerous, and wounded, and was about to be more wounded. And wounded, trapped animals could be the biggest threat.

"Everything is different now," she said suddenly, and both men stopped in surprise. Bash looked crushed, and Francis looked elated.

"Yes," Francis said, coming toward her, seeming ready to take her arm – but the look on Mary's face stopped him. She was still processing the shock. He decided to give her some space. "Yes, you can come back to court, we can be wed, we can put all of this behind us."

"Mary, please, we can still go through with this," Bash whispered, and the heartbreak in his eyes spurred her into action. She had to act.

"No. No, I'm not going through with this now." She turned to Francis. "Francis, I need to speak to Bash. Please, give us some space."

Francis narrowed his eyes. "No, Mary you need to come back with me now."

"Francis," Mary said gently, though a part of her wanted to scream, "I need a few minutes with Bash. Please, take your horse, and wait over by the church. I will come back with you to the castle, but you have to give me time to speak with Bash."

Francis frowned, and glared at Bash. The arrogance returned to his eyes at he looked at his older brother. "I suppose since I will have you for the rest of our lives, I can allow the loser in this game of thrones a few minutes."

Mary watched him until he was safely out of earshot, and then turned to Bash. He was staring at her as if he knew what was coming but didn't want to believe it. Only he didn't know.

Flicking her eyes once more to Francis to be sure where he was, Mary said softly, "Bash, if I come back at sunset, can the priest marry us then?"

Hope flew into Bash's eyes. "What?" he gasped, as if not sure he had heard her correctly. "Mary what are you saying?"

Mary took his hand in both of hers, and he grasped it like it was a lifeline in a flood. "I'm saying I want to marry you Bash. I want you, my protector, my lion, my love. Everything has changed Bash, because I realized it was you. You're the one I want at my side, to face England and Protestants and pagan blood cults and anything else that stands in my way. Because if I have you I can face anything."

"So you weren't just marrying me because of the prophecy?" Bash said warily, his head still reeling from the change of pace. "You don't love Francis?"

"I thought I did, and maybe I did, in a way. But you have taught me about a stronger type of love. When I heard the prophecy was no longer in the way, and I thought about marrying Francis, I was terrified. I was terrified of losing you."

Bash smiled a little, and then glanced back over his shoulder at where Francis was waiting, glaring at them. "But why did you tell Francis you were going back to the castle with him?"

Mary glanced past Bash too at where Francis stood, and worry crossed her face. "He wouldn't let us go Bash. If I said I was eloping with you, I think he would have tried to cut you down."

"Let him try," Bash growled.

Mary shook her head firmly. "No. That is not something I want on my conscience on my wedding day. Besides, we need time. We thought we were being careful, but apparently not careful enough, since Francis knew where to find us. No one is in favor of this marriage now Bash – its not just Catherine – its my mother and I think your father as well now. Henry is regretting the deal he made."

Bash nodded, his face growing hard. "Yes. But he will have little to say about it when the Pope agrees to legitimize me. And this will force the pope's hand – I will be king."

A ghost of a smile came onto Mary's face. "That is a certainty – the king of Scotland, if not of France." Her face grew serious again. "But first I must put to rest all suspicions. We must not be found out until the morning, and then it will be too late." A hint of a blush creeped over her face, and for a brief moment she saw a flash of mischief in Bash's eyes in return. But a movement in the distance caught her eye. Looking past Bash, she saw that Francis was growing impatient. Their time was running out.

"I'll return at dusk. Wait for me, and have the priest ready to marry us immediately."

"Mary, it's dangerous for you to travel alone at that time of night."

"Alec will help me. Then he can be one of our witnesses. There's no time to discuss this further, Francis is coming back," Mary said in a rush. She squeezed his hand. "I will see you tonight."

Bash looked at her longingly, the desire to wrap her in his arms all too apparent. But that would not do while Francis was watching. He had to satisfy himself with gripping her hand tightly for a moment before stepping away. "Be careful, Mary," he said in parting. The dark-haired man brushed past Francis, slamming into his shoulder on the way past, and leapt onto his horse and was gone.

Mary watched her wild hearted love as he rode away, and there was worry in her eyes. Francis mistook the look for guilt at breaking Bash's heart however. "Shall we return Mary?" he said, and it was obvious that his false façade of pleasantness was masking deep irritation. The fair prince had hated every minute Mary spoke with his brother. "Everyone will no doubt be happy to know that you've come to your senses at last."

Months ago when Mary had first arrived at court, she would have been unable to stop the sharp retort that was right on the edge of her tongue. But her time at French court had schooled the Scottish Queen in deception, and she arranged her features in a passing imitation of happiness. "Yes, please – I need to speak to Nostradamus, and I need to reflect I think. Everything has changed so quickly."

Pleased with his conquest, Francis was oblivious to the fact that Mary's smile didn't reach her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2: Misdirection

**Misdirection**

Mary's talents at play-acting were put to the test back at the castle. She wasn't worried about her own mother – Marie de Guise still thought of her daughter as a naïve innocent, and besides Marie didn't know her very well. Sadly enough, Mary was more worried about Catherine and Henry. They did know the young queen, unfortunately, and Henry in particular had seen her with Bash in those past weeks.

But for once, Mary was in luck. Catherine was elated to see that Mary had been talked out of the elopement (though Mary refused to admit that was what had been planned), and even more jubilant when she discovered that Bash had not returned to the castle. "Skulking in the shadows where he belongs, is he?" Catherine had said in her dry, clipped voice. "Well perhaps he should stay there, after all, he never belonged at court in the first place."

Catherine's comment touched a familiar nerve in Henry, but circumstances had vastly changed, and he seemed eager to throw off the mantle of the legitimization plot, as well. "Yes, we all know how you feel about Bash. But if Mary has decided on Francis, then it does seem best that Bash not return."

Henry's comment worried Mary. The French King seemed ready to write the Vatican that very night to call the whole thing off, and Mary decided maybe the royal family should be given some reason to hesitate, after all.

"I haven't decided," Mary insisted. "I want to see Nostradamus first."

"Nostradamus?" Henry cried indignantly. "That shabby fortune teller? Please don't tell me you are going to leave the decision of who will be the future king of France in his hand."

Catherine looked alarmed that Mary would suggest Nostradamus's influence in Henry's presence, but understood – or thought she understood – why Mary was asking the question. "Oh let her go Henry. Nostradamus is not going to interfere in the line of succession, he's smarter than that," the older queen lied easily. "If it makes her feel better, let her talk to him. He'll know Francis is her true love just as surely as we do."

"Fine," Henry said, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He was an intelligent man, and Mary's request had illuminated for him a possible reason why Mary might have left court the first time. "Let's hope for Nostradamus's sake that his visions do not suggest any reason why Mary should not stake her rightful claim to England."

"Yes, yes, we're all aware of your need to claim three kingdoms as your legacy in order to feel worthwhile as a man," Marie de Guise said dismissively. "Let's get this visit over with, shall we?"

Henry bristled, but there was little he could do about his royal guest's insults. Mary, for her part, was happy to see the three scheming monarchs sharpening their claws on each other. It made them pay less attention to her.

Mary was not play-acting when she grilled Nostradamus with questions on his visions, trying to understand what had changed. The young queen's actions were no longer going to be dictated by prophecy, either way, but Mary needed to understand if it was his visions which were false or only his interpretation of them. In the future, she intended to be much more cautious about the seer's fortune telling.

The intensity of Mary's questioning seemed to convince Catherine, and probably also Marie, that Mary put faith in the seer's words. He swore that Mary and Francis could wed without danger to the prince. Finally, Mary was convinced – and reading between the lines, she also understood how his vision had been misinterpreted in the first place. She felt silly for having allowed her actions to be so completely governed by a prophecy which, when it came down to it, was clearly subject to multiple interpretations. But it didn't matter now, anyway. Her mind was made up.

To the three gathered monarchs, however, she played a different tune. "I am glad to hear that the seer does not see obstacles to my life with Francis. But before I commit to this path for certain, I think I should engage in prayer. After all, it is God who must guide us in the end."

The two French royals looked like they wanted to roll their eyes, and the Dowager Queen of Scotland looked more amused than anything. "Ah yes, you can tell my daughter was raised in a convent. Well, why don't we give you all the time you need for prayer then? Perhaps a stint on your knees in the chapel?" Marie's tone was that of a mother humoring a rather silly child. Mary resented it, but at the moment, it served her purposes wonderfully, so she let it pass.

"Not the chapel. I find the pain of too much time on my knees distracts me from the thing I need to contemplate. When I was at the convent, my most prayerful moments came gazing at the stars or sitting by the fire. I think I shall retire to my chambers for some quiet contemplation," Mary said.

"First prophets, and now prayer," Henry groused. "How difficult can it be to choose to marry the man you love? Let's just be done with this."

"I will not be bullied by you," Mary drew herself up, a steely look in her eyes as she boldly stared down a king and two queens. "Leave me alone for the remainder of the day to my contemplations. Instruct the servants not to bring me food. I will fast to ensure my mind is focused on God's will." The nuns at the convent would have been proud of that – if she hadn't been lying through her teeth. Now there would be no servants bothering her with food trays, or wondering why she hadn't touched the dinner they left for her. She had told them all she was going to be engaged in fasting & prayer . . . and they all believed her, tolerating her piety with a little condescension. It made her all the more angry, but she reminded herself again that their own prejudices and misconceptions about her would serve her well tonight. Tonight, they would leave her alone – and she would be in Bash's arms.


	3. Chapter 3: Soaring

**Chapter 3: Soaring**

As the sun was setting, Mary slipped into the stables through the secret passageway. Alec was waiting for her with two saddled horses and a plain cloak much like the one Bash always wore. With any luck, even if they were seen she wouldn't be recognized. The setting sun was in just the right position to be in the eyes of anyone watching them from the castle, and they had barely cleared the stable yard before they burst into a gallop. Time was of the essence. Mary did not want Bash to be left waiting a moment longer than he had too.

The last of the light was fading as they thundered into the church yard, and Bash was at Mary's side almost before the horse had stopped, reaching up to help her off her mount. She leapt gladly off the horse into his arms, and he crushed her against him, hand wrapped in her hair and cheek resting on top of her forehead. She got the feeling he had been afraid he would never see her again. Then Bash's lips were pressed against her own, intensely claiming her ever so briefly, and she responded willingly, the newness of the realization that she loved him making the moment all the more precious.

Alec cleared his throat, bringing them both back to the present. Sebastian grabbed her hand and eagerly tugged her toward the church. "The priest is waiting, and the grounds keeper is there as well to witness along with Alec. I don't want to wait another moment," he said grinning excitedly at her.

His mood was infectious, and Mary actually giggled, her feet light as she blithely followed him. There was no music, no solemnly walking down the aisle alone to some stoic bridegroom. Instead, the two lovers practically danced down the aisle, hand in hand, broad grins on their faces, to where the priest was waiting.

The priest was a simple country priest – though he was close to the castle, his parishioners were simple villagers, and he had never been this close to royalty. Indeed, he had no idea he was marrying a Queen and future king, thinking they were merely some nobles staying at the castle who had taken it in their heads to elope. So he was not intimidated or nervous, but calmly went about his task.

"I see the bride has arrived," the clergyman said mildly.

"Yes she has. The most beautiful bride in the whole wide world, and she's mine," Bash was ecstatic, his blue eyes sparkling. Hand still clasping hers, he took a step back for a moment and held her away from him, admiring her. Mary laughed again and closed the distance between them, pressing their entwined hands against his chest and looking up joyfully at him.

The priest raised an eyebrow. "I think we better get this marriage ceremony done, then," the priest said.

"Absolutely," said Bash, "the sooner the better."

"As quickly as you can," Mary agreed.

"Well then, shall we begin?" The man of the cloth made the sign of the cross over them and began the Latin rites of the holy sacrament of matrimony.

As the officiant continued in a chanting tone, the solemnity of the occasion slowly settled over the pair, and a quietness came over them. Mary had always loved the words of the Church's rites – it was like they lulled her into a state of meditation, clearing her mind of all the extraneous details, until the truth was there, clear before her. She gazed into Bash's crystal blue eyes, seeing adoration mixing with disbelief that this was actually happening shining out of them, and she knew with every fiber of her being that this was the right choice. The uncertainty, the confusion, the torn allegiance between two brothers seemed a distant memory as she basked in the perfect glow of the unselfish, unconditional love of Sebastian de Poitiers. She understood now why the nuns had always emphasized the sacredness of the marriage bond. She felt it in her core, that this was not just a contract binding them together in all worldly ways. This was the union of two souls as one, the commitment to put the other before themselves always, to love, honor, and cherish each other for all the days of their lives. When the moment came, she meant it with all her heart as she whispered, "I do."

There were tears in Bash's eyes then, she was sure of it, though he wouldn't let them fall. He was in danger of being overcome with emotion, and when the priest pronounced the words "What God has joined together, let no man put asunder," Sebastian was no longer capable of keeping it contained. He gathered Mary to him and crushed her sweet lips with his own, pouring every ounce of his devotion into that kiss. It left Mary spinning in wonderous bliss.

Even when the newlyweds finally pulled apart for a breath they refused to let go, pressing their foreheads together. Alec and the groundskeeper slapped Bash on the back, congratulating him, and then Bash looked up at them, still gathering Mary to him. She laid her head on his chest as they said their thanks to the priest, wanting to stay close to her new husband. And then Bash looked down at Mary again, a twinkle in his eye.

"My beautiful wife, I believe there's one more thing we need to do to make this marriage official."

Mary giggled again, unable to resist the irreverent charmer that was her husband. That was what had first drawn her to him, oh so many twists and turns of fate ago. He was cheeky, he was unexpected, he was exhilarating, and he made her feel free. Free to love, free to live, free to be Mary – Mary, the girl, and Mary the Queen of Scots, both.

When they exited the church, Bash swept her up and placed her on his own horse. Mary protested a little, but Bash was insistent – he was not letting her out of his embrace for the rest of the night, he claimed. She laughed again at that, not minding in the least. Alec promised to bring her horse to the inn where they were staying – though as he planned on taking a much more relaxed pace than Bash, he was sure the horse would arrive sometime after them.

Darkness had fallen in full when they reached the inn down the road a bit. The common room was full of song and music, but Bash and Mary had no interest in joining the revelry, or in being seen. Bash had taken a room at the back of the inn that could be reached by the back staircase, and he gleefully swept Mary into his arms bridal style and carried her up to their room, kicking the door closed behind them. His instructions had been followed and there was a cheerful fire already roaring, making the room cosy and inviting. Unwilling to set his precious load down even for a moment, at his bride's instance Bash turned so that Mary could reach out and lock the door, and then in a few short strides he was over to the bed, gently laying her down.

He paused for a moment, and Mary saw the moment of uncertainty in his eyes, the fear that his eagerness would frighten or hurt her. Though she didn't want to spoil this moment by any mention of the past, she felt she had to tell him, if only to alleviate his worry. "Bash, I have known a man – and I want you," she said. A look of surprise crossed his face, but she gave him no chance to consider her revelation or ask questions. She took his face in her hands and hungrily kissed him with a desire far stronger than any she had known before, pulling him down on her. Bash responded without hesitation, the months of pent up longing and the jubilation of at last knowing her hand and her heart were his pouring forth from him in every caress, every kiss, as they became one. When at last their passion reached its climax, Mary felt more than one kind of release, as if at last, at last, her soul was free to soar.


	4. Chapter 4: First Light

**Chapter 4: First Light**

Out of habit, Bash awoke at first light. It was ingrained in him from all of his nights spent sleeping out of doors. He woke feeling as if he had been having a wonderful dream. For a moment he stared at the ceiling of the room, trying unsuccessfully to reconcile the cross-timbers he saw there with the ones he expected to see in his old quarters at the castle. Then he felt a slight movement from the person laying next to him, and the events of the prior day and night sunk in. Just like that, his perspective shifted, and everything snapped into place.

Only just as the timbers above him were not quite the same pattern as those in his old quarters, the pieces of his life were not quite arranged the same either. The newly made husband paused a moment to marvel at the sudden bend in the road his life had taken, and to bask in the feel of the presence of Mary beside him. Mary, his true queen now, in both the worldly sense and in the romantic one. At last irrevocably – and more importantly willingly - committed to him, and only him.

With that thought Bash rolled over to snuggle against Mary again. They had fallen asleep nestled together, and Bash wanted her to wake up in the same embrace. But as he was thoroughly awake himself now, he propped himself on an elbow so he could better see her sleeping face. He smiled, noticing how at peace she looked. Bash wished he could give her that kind of peace forever. Unfortunately, the enormity of what they had done and the likely consequences almost immediately began pressing in on him.

If someone had been watching him then, they would have seen his eyes narrow briefly in thought, and then seen him give a shake of his head, the glow of happiness returning to his eyes. There was time enough to worry about all of that. For right now, for this blessed moment, he was going to enjoy what he had.

His bride should not be sleeping away these precious hours before they had to face their respective irate royal parents. There was something much better they should be doing.

Bash leaned over her with a look both loving and mischievous, and began stroking her cheek ever so lightly. Mary stirred a little, and lightly flipping her hair over the pillow, he began ever so gently kissing her neck, her shoulder, her ear, her jaw line, coaxing her awake with his caresses. She stretched, turning on her back toward him with her eyes still closed and half asleep but a smile on her face. She reached her hand up find his face, and he captured the wandering limb, dropping unbearably sultry kisses on her palm and her wrist, setting her body on fire even before her conscious thoughts had fully returned.

The dual physical pleasures of the pure relaxation a body feels just waking from a good sleep and the tingles of desire Bash was eliciting with his ministrations, were delicious and intoxicating. Mary slowly opened her eyes, love and desire already alive in them.

Seeing her finally abandon the land of dreams, Bash paused his caresses for a moment, arm resting lightly on Mary's waist. "Good morning, my beautiful wife." His tone made it clear that Bash considered there to be no term of endearment more tender than that precious moniker, "wife". There was a reverence in his voice that took a word so often ordinary, even sometimes oppressive, and made it a title of honor and adoration.

Mary smiled back at him, and this time did gently rub his cheek with her thumb, hand alongside his face. "Good morning, my husband."

"And how does Mary Queen of Scots feel this morning?" The slight hitch in his tone told Mary that he meant the question as more than a mere pleasantry.

"Wonderful. I like the way you wake me up,"

"No regrets then?"

"None. I have made the perfect choice," Mary assured him, gazing steadily into his eyes.

Bash continued to search her face. "There will be quite the storm to deal with when we return to the castle. Are you sure you're ready to face all of them?" He struggled internally for a moment, and continued, "To face Francis?"

"We will face it together, as we will face everything from now on," Mary said. Her sincerity convinced Bash, and he released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "But Bash let's not talk about that right now. I just want to enjoy this moment of freedom, when we can just be husband and wife, not a king and queen."

"A king," Bash said, a bit of surprise in his voice. "I suppose I am. Well then, by royal decree, at her majesty's request I declare all discussions of _French court_ off limits. I have something else in mind for you," he declared, suddenly tickling her.

Mary let out a shriek of laughter and began swatting at him wildly. Bash swiftly pinned her arms, and then just as suddenly began kissing her deeply and hungrily. He released her arms to wrap his hands in her hair and Mary reached out to pull him to her, matching his passion. For another precious hour, they could bask in their newly consummated love.

Afterward, his arm wrapped around Mary and her head resting on his chest, Bash reflected that some part of him was still expecting to wake up and find this had all been just a very vivid dream. He knew they should get up and return to the castle, as it would be far better to return on their own terms than to be found and dragged back by the guards. But the deeply ingrained habit of the bastard kept him where he was. A bastard knew to enjoy to the fullest life's precious moments of happiness when they came, because such moments were fleeting and it was uncertain to if or when another such one would come again.

Eventually, however, Mary's sense of duty and Bash's sense of caution became to much to ignore, and they rose to face what lay in front of them.

Not surprisingly, Bash was ready sooner, and so while Mary dressed, he ventured down to the common room to get a simple breakfast for them. When he returned with the tray to the room, he found Mary staring pensively out the window. His heart sank, afraid that his precious bride had begun to regret her rash actions, if a bit belatedly.

Setting the tray down on the table, Bash steeled himself to remind her why this was the right course – and to help her see that she had in fact chosen the right brother. But Mary spoke first, turning to him with that look on her face that said she was going to say something, even though it was difficult.

"Bash, you haven't asked me yet about . . ." she paused delicately, "about my prior experience."

The young queen's comment was so different than what Bash had been expecting that it took him a moment to realize what she was referring to.

"You mean, that last night was not your first time," Bash clarified. Mary nodded silently. Bash walked over to her, grasping her hands. "Mary, I would never hold that against you. How could I?"

"But others might," Mary said. "Especially . . . Francis."

"Because it was Francis you were with," Bash voiced his guess rather grimly. It wasn't surprising – who else would it have been? But it could rather complicate things.

"Yes. And if he wanted to fight back, to oppose your legitimization, as he almost certainly will now, that secret provides him with leverage against us."

"Francis was clearly complicit in the act, unless he's going to suggest that you forced him. It was foolhardy for him to claim you before you were married, knowing that if you were not a virgin it would jeopardize an already tenuous engagement. Why would he bring up something that reflects so poorly on him as well?"

"But it _doesn't_ reflect poorly on him. Men are not held to the same standard. And he was prepared to marry me. Whereas I –" she stopped abruptly, looking away.

"Whereas you ran off with his brother not once but twice, and this time actually married the bastard," Bash finished. "Yes, I can see how my little brother might try to shame you with that. But it will be his word against yours."

Mary looked agitated now, and her face blushed scarlet at the next words. She refused to meet Bash's eyes. "But I – I was there all night – two nights, actually. The servants will know I was not in my own bed the two mornings before my planned wedding. They will support Francis' story."

Bash gently grasped Mary's chin with his finger and thumb and turned her to meet his gaze. "Mary, whatever happened, you are still the Queen of Scotland. Nothing Francis reveals will change that. And if my father wants France, England and Scotland united as his legacy, he has no choice but to support this marriage now, as does the Pope. But if it makes you feel better, why not claim you were with me that night?"

"With you?" Mary repeated. "But Bash, that would have been treason for you – your father will be furious!"

"What difference does it make now?" Bash said. "In all likelihood that is what the servants suspected anyway, given that we left court together. Not to mention the guards who found us at the inn. And father will be furious anyway. If your secret comes out at all, it is better that everyone, including _King Henry_ believe that we were in love all along and that you have only ever been with the man who is now your husband."

Mary hesitated, wanting to be comforted by his plan, but still unsure. "Francis will know the truth."

"And if he claims you are lying, it will sound like the empty accusations of an angry jealous princeling who has lost his throne. Trust me, our story will be the one that is believed."

As usual, Bash's confidence and practical advice convinced Mary. She nodded. "Alright. If it comes up, I shall say I was with you."

"Good," said Bash. "Now that's settled, I suggest we make our way back to the castle. Much as I wish I never had to step foot in that place again, I think it is better that we return on our own this time, don't you?"

Mary placed a hand on his chest. "Poor Bash. I have condemned you to a life you hate. Why did you ever agree to marry me?"

"I think it had something to do with the threat of losing my head," Bash said flippantly, smiling at her. "And it might also have been because I'm hopelessly in love with you."

Mary cocked her head to the side, examining him. "Why Sebastian, I believe that's the first time you've told me that."

Bash gathered her to him then for a short kiss. He drew back from her just a space, and said fiercely, "Every time I kiss you, that is what I am saying. I love you Mary Queen of Scots, and I hope you love me too, because now that I have you I am never letting you go."

"And I never want you to let me go," Mary said, kissing him in return.

It did not escape Bash's notice that she did not say "I love you" back, not exactly. He tried to remember if Mary had said it back in the graveyard when she asked Bash to marry her at sunset – he thought she had, but had she really? But it didn't bother him. Bash was sure now that she did love him. He could wait to hear the words.

**Author's Notes: Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews! Writing this was how I coped with 1x13 and I'm glad it helped some of you too! In fact, I the reviews tipped the balance in favor of continuing on from this point. Originally I had been intending to incorporate the first 3 chapters of this story into my story Crooked Path, which I planned as the complete Mary & Bash anthology. **

**But I'm feeling inspired to write from this point in the story, and finding it a little difficult to go back to write the rest of Crooked Path. I think I need a little more distance from 1x13, and then I can finish CP, which will be canon through 1x12 and then will end. Then this story is the sequel – my AU world where Mary and Bash reign united - though what country(ies) they reign and for how long is in question. You'll just have to see. **

**There will be some good ol' Reign style scheming and drama in the coming chapters when our favorite couple returns to court. Ages ago I wrote scenes with Marie de Guise and with Diane de Poitiers reacting to the potential union of their respective children, but the scenes have to be reworked because my plot has changed somewhat. I originally planned that Marie was going to be the one to reveal to Bash about Mary & Francis' nights together, and it would happen before Mary & Bash's wedding, but obviously my story went elsewhere.**

**Anyway, yikes these are long notes, so I'll sign off now. Work is crazy and I have a little one at home too so it can be hard to get time to write, but I'm enjoying writing this and I know where I want to go so I fully intend to continue!**


	5. Chapter 5: Laying in Wait

**Chapter 5 – Laying in Wait**

Greer and Kenna arrived at Mary's chambers quite early in the morning. The atmosphere in the castle had been tense the prior afternoon and evening as everyone awaited the end of Mary's prayer vigil in her chambers. Those who had shifted their support to Sebastian as the heir over the past several weeks were nervous now that Francis had suddenly returned. Francis's supporters were quick to spread rumors that the Queen of Scots had switched her allegiance back to the younger prince, and the unexplained absence of Bash at court that whole day and night seemed to support those rumors.

To make matters more mysterious, Diane de Poitiers had arrived back at the castle around dinner time. Surprisingly Henry had seemed less than pleased to see his once-favored mistress. Nevertheless when the king retired early for the night, he requested that Diane accompanied him to his chambers. As the night wore on and there was no evidence of either the king or Diane re-emerging, the courtiers eventually assumed that she was staying. It seemed the answers everyone was looking for would have to wait for morning, as none of the royal family or their closest confidantes were talking.

Mary's ladies in waiting were no less anxious than everyone else to know what was going on, which explained Greer and Kenna's early appearance at the Queen's chambers that morning. The guards let them pass without question, and the tired page barely mumbled the announcement before waving them into the anteroom, thinking Queen Mary surely would be happy to see her ladies after a long night of fasting and prayer.

As was Mary's habit, the door to her inner chamber was not barred. Kenna quietly peeked in to see if their queen was awake. Greer saw her friend stiffen in surprise before suddenly throwing the door open in full. "She's not here." Kenna said.

"What?" Greer said, pushing past her and looking around the inner room in puzzlement.

"She's not here, and she _hasn't_ been here all night." Kenna said. "Look, her bed is made."

"Perhaps the servants got here first. She fasted all night, she probably woke up at first light and went to the kitchens to look for some food."

Kenna cocked an eyebrow at Greer. "You may run to the kitchens every chance you get Greer but I doubt that's where Mary is." She nodded toward Mary's dressing table. "Look, everything is still in its place. We are the ones who clean that up when she is done with her morning routine. She wasn't here."

"Do you think she's alright? We should alert the guards," Greer said, alarm on her face. Greer turned hastily toward the door, but Kenna grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Just because Mary's not here doesn't mean she's not alright. She has Scottish guards at her door now that Marie has arrived, they wouldn't let anyone through and they would have told us if she had left."

Realization dawned on Greer's face. "That can only mean she left by the secret passageway."

"The question is why, and with whom?" Kenna said. The type of intrigues that happened in the dead of the night were Kenna's specialty, and there was a gleam in her eye. Privately she took great delight in thinking that the oh-so-pure and virtuous Mary had decided to take a walk on the dark side.

"And to do what," Lola said as she walked into the bed chamber, voicing what all three ladies had been wondering. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked a little less tidy than normal, as if she had thrown on her clothes and done her hair in haste.

Greer examined her friend curiously. "You look terrible," the blonde lady in waiting said sympathetically. "Did you not sleep well last night?"

Greer meant the question innocently, but for some reason it seemed to make Lola nervous. "No, I'm afraid I was up most of the night," the late-comer replied, trying to sound casual. "So where is Mary?"

"Isn't that the question of the day," Kenna said with a little smirk.

Greer lost patience with Kenna at that. "You seem awfully sure Mary left of her own volition. But what if someone snuck through the passages and kidnapped her? We need to do something."

"First we need to look around and figure out what happened ourselves," Lola stepped in and took control as usual. "It won't do to let everyone know Mary's gone if she's run off with Bash again." 

"Or Francis," Kenna added as Lola began walking around the room, inspecting for clues.

"No, it wasn't Francis," Lola said without thinking. The lack of sleep had dulled her usually sharp presence of mind.

"Oh really, and how would you know that?" Kenna said almost gleefully. Self-controlled Lola _and_ puritan Mary compromised in one night. It was too delicious. "Spent the night with Francis yourself, did you?"

"Kenna!" Greer gasped.

Lola glared. "There are many ways I could know Francis wasn't with Mary last night. You shouldn't jump to conclusions."

"But I am right, aren't I?" Kenna said smugly, locking eyes with Lola. Greer looked from one to the other, baffled and more than a little disappointed in her friends.

"We were talking, that was all," Lola said tightly. "He needed a friend."

"I'm sure he did. Francis seems to have many friends of the female kind, though none of them seem to last long." 

"I think you are mistaking Francis for his father," Lola shot back. "King Henry certainly didn't keep you around long."

Kenna's eyes narrowed, but Greer stepped in then. "Enough! The two of you are being ridiculous. Leave aside your petty bickering and focus on what is important right now. We need to find Mary! "

"Yes, I couldn't agree more," a new voice said from the doorway. Three heads turned abruptly to see Marie de Guise standing there. "Though I admit this little exchange would be highly intriguing on another day. Lola, I think we may need to have a chat very soon about the meaning of _loyalty_. " The threat in the dowager queen's voice was clear. "You, Kenna, are already marked untrustworthy since it seems clear you would place King Henry's interest above your queen's. But for the moment it is Lady' Greer's question that I want answered. _Where is my daughter?_"

The ladies in waiting glanced at each other, each silently begging the others to come up with something believable to tell the Scottish Regent.

Sighing, Greer finally settled on the truth. "We don't know."

"You don't know?" Marie said sharply. "Her trusted friends, her closest confidantes, the ladies in waiting that I sent here with _explicit instructions _to make sure Mary wed the next king of France, and you don't know?"

Lola and Kenna felt Greer shift uncomfortably at the phrase "explicit instructions." Apparently Greer's comment on the day of their first arrival at French court about getting Mary in the game was more than Greer's own observations. That too was a topic for another time, however. Right now the three ladies in waiting needed to deal with a strong dose of Scottish wrath from the acting monarch.

"I will speak to Alec," Lola offered. "If Mary left with Bash, his bodyguard will know." She slipped out immediately, closing the inner chamber door behind her. It was unlikely that the page could make out all of their conversation from his place on the far side of the outer chamber door, but it never hurt to have an extra buffer.

"Bash," Marie de Guise said with alarm. "You think she eloped with the bastard?"

"He's a good man," Greer defended the king's oldest son. She had been glad to see Mary and Bash grow closer; it made her feel less flawed for loving Leith. If a queen could fall for a bastard, who could blame an untitled lady in waiting for falling for a kitchen servant?

"Yes, I'm sure he's a fine specimen," Marie said in her usual dismissive voice. "But he is a _bastard_." She collapsed on a chair and threw up her hands. "How could Mary possibly lose her sense of duty so completely? Especially when all obstacles to her marriage to Francis, the rightful heir, were removed?"

"Perhaps she fell in love," Kenna said.

"Stop projecting your own situation onto Mary," Marie retorted sharply. But Kenna's suggestion reminded Marie uncomfortably of the conversation the two Scottish queens had about Mary's affections. Perhaps Mary had been unwilling to admit her true feelings until she was sure of her mother's intentions? Marie had to admit to herself that her daughter was smarter than her mother had believed.

While they waited for Lola to return with word from Alec, Marie grilled Kenna and Greer on the relationship between Mary and Bash. Her daughter's absence made it clear that Marie had either overestimated or underestimated the young queen, or perhaps both. Overestimated Mary's devotion to duty, and underestimated how bold Mary would be.

As Greer and Kenna debated Mary's feelings for Bash, Marie realized she had made more mistakes than just that. Marie had also overestimated a mother's influence on a teenage daughter she hadn't seen in years, and, it was becoming apparent, underestimated how strong a pull Henry's oldest son had on that daughter's heart. Because while Kenna insisted that Mary's heart still belonged to Francis, Greer seemed convinced that true love had blossomed for Mary _after_ Francis left court. As Kenna's views were clearly influenced by her own biases against Diane de Poitiers and her horror at the idea of Diane married to Henry, Marie tended to believe Greer's take on the situation.

Marie tucked away the information about Mary's ladies in waiting for future use. It would seem that Kenna was firmly in Francis's camp – and that she was no stranger to intrigues. Kenna was a little inexperienced at scheming, perhaps, but probably would be an eager learner. At the moment, that meant Kenna was the one Marie would use if she needed aid in unraveling whatever foolish thing Mary might have done last night.

The opportunity to put Kenna to the test as an accomplice came sooner than expected. There was a pounding on the outer door, and then the page stepped in, announcing that Francis was waiting to see Lady Mary. Marie leapt into action.

"Kenna, go outside, tell Francis that I am talking with Mary right now, trying to convince her the prophecy is nonsense. Make him believe that Mary is still afraid wedding Francis will harm him and that that is the _only_ reason she is not coming out to greet him as his bridegroom. We have to keep this ruse up as long as we can."

Kenna nodded and slipped out to do the Scottish Regent's bidding. She returned shortly thereafter, and Lola followed her in.

"Francis has left," Kenna said. "He seemed reluctant but he was satisfied by the explanation. He asked that Mary see him as soon as possible. I think he wants a chance to convince Mary himself." Kenna glanced sideways at Lola to see her reaction to those words, but Lola had regained her usual sense of control completely, much to Kenna's disappointment.

"And I spoke with Alec," Lola said calmly. "He is waiting for me around the corner to go with him down to the stables. He said that Bash and Mary did elope last night, but that they will be returning to court this morning. He expects them very soon, and arranged it with Bash that he would meet them at the stables. He thinks it would be wise if one of Mary's ladies were there as well to accompany them back to the castle."

"Heaven help us," said Marie exasperatedly. "But in the meantime God help's those who help themselves. Lola, not only should you go with Alec, you need to do so wearing Mary's cloak. Pull the hood up and keep your head down. Take two of the guards with you and walk quickly, talking to no-one. With any luck, someone will report that Mary was heading down to the stables for a morning ride. When you see Mary, switch cloaks with her and tell her that she needs to come find me _immediately_, before she breathes a _word_ of what she's done to _anyone_. We have to strategize how to handle this together."

"What if Francis sees her? He'll think it's Mary and he'll go to her immediately." Kenna said.

"I will go speak with Francis now and keep him distracted for a bit. Do not waste any time getting out of the castle. Luckily only the servants are up and about for the most part." 

"Lying to the dauphin of France will not sit well with your hosts," Lola said. "Nor will this deception."

"Our _hosts_ have put us in this position by failing to keep to their end of the treaty and wed Francis to Mary as soon as they were of age," Marie retorted. "Do not try to school me in the ways of diplomacy young lady, I have been at this for longer than you have been alive. Now do as I say."

"And the guards?" said Greer. "They do not take orders from us."

"I will take care of that too," Marie snapped. "What, suddenly all of you have decided to grow a backbone? Where was that forthrightness when Mary was planning on eloping with a _bastard_? Stop arguing and go!"

The ladies in waiting complied, but none of them looked happy about it. They weren't sure what the Scottish Regent was planning, but as Mary hadn't given them any clue what her plans were, they had no idea how to help even if they wanted to. For the moment, the safest option seemed to be to play along until they could speak to Mary themselves.

**Author's Notes:**

**I promised some scheming, didn't I? Just like in the show, occasionally the plot dictates that I spend time away from Mary and Bash. But they will be back next chapter for a nice juicy confrontation with Marie de Guise – and Mary will have something to say about the elopement that surprises both Marie **_**and**_** Bash.**


	6. Chapter 6: United, Divided

**Chapter 6: United, Divided**

Bash found himself being extremely thorough checking over the horses as he and Mary prepared to leave the inn and return to the castle, as if subconsciously he was looking for excuses to postpone their departure. When he realized what he was doing, he mentally took himself to task, and efficiently finished the preparations.

It was a beautiful morning, frosty but bright. For a little while riding beside Mary made him forget that he was riding back toward French court, which was rapidly becoming one of his least favorite places to be. As they neared the castle, however, he found it harder and harder to keep up conversation. Instead Bash found himself brooding over what was likely to happen next and planning contingencies for every threat he could think of.

He must have lapsed into complete silence for some time, because Mary's voice startled him when she spoke. "You would never know you were the kingdom's fastest rider," Mary said with gentle amusement, glancing back at him. Bash was startled to realize he had started lagging behind. "Bash, I know you are not looking forward to facing your father and brother. But you were right – delaying it will not make it better. The least we can do is return and tell them ourselves before the gossips do it for us."

"Don't forget your lovely mother," Bash said, grimacing. "That is a conversation I am not looking forward to. I've never really met her, you know. How shall I introduce myself? 'Nice to meet you mother-in-law, I'm the bastard that stole away your daughter.' "

"It doesn't matter what she thinks. She is not the ruler of Scotland."

"No, she's not. But you do need her to rule. I don't think we can return to Scotland yet, not with the French succession so unsettled. "

Mary sighed. "Absolutely. We have to stay at French court until your succession is ensured."

"And that won't happen simply because I become legitimized. We have to stay, consolidate our position. Your ability to rule when you do return to Scotland will depend on the opinion the Scottish nobility have of you. Who better to form those opinions than the Regent, your mother."

"And your father says you know nothing of ruling!" Mary joked half-heartedly. "How little he knows."

"My survival instincts are strong, and adaptation is key to survival," Bash's jested in return, but his grin was a little thin and faded quickly. He continued more seriously, "I will do my best to convey to your mother that I will be a strong ally when the Pope legitimizes me."

"Leave my mother to me," Mary said.

"How do you plan to convince her to support your marriage?" Bash pressed curiously. "We haven't really discussed what exactly we are going to do when we return."

"I'm going to tell her the truth," Mary said simply. "And the sooner the better." With that, she kicked her horse into a gallop, and Bash had no choice but to follow.

Alec and Lola were waiting for them at the stables. Lola had on Mary's bright red cape, and there were two Scottish guards waiting outside, which immediately concerned Bash. It seemed Mary's absence had in fact been discovered. Mary noticed as well.

"I hear congratulations are in order," Lola ventured as the newly arrived pair dismounted. Mary glanced at the stable boys who were nearby and waited until the servants had led the horses away to respond.

"Yes, and we are very happy," she said smiling up at Bash, "But as you can imagine, we need to be careful who knows. The king must know first. And Lola, why are you wearing my cape?"

"Your mother insisted," Lola replied. "I'm afraid the king won't know first because Marie de Guise already does. She came into your empty chamber this morning while we were discussing what to do. She is insisting on seeing you before you go elsewhere. She made Kenna lie to Francis to believe that you were still inside and made me where this cloak in the hopes that the castle's inhabitants would mistake me for you, going out for a ride, so that she could explain why you were returning from the stables so early."

"The Scottish queen mother seems determined to undo what you have done," Alec directed his words toward Bash.

"She can't," Mary said grimly. "We are man and wife now, in every sense."

"And you may be a widow soon after, if someone with power decides you made the wrong choice," Alec said bluntly. Mary looked startled, as if that possibility had not occurred to her.

"Then we must be all the more cautious," Bash addressed his bodyguard, a hard look in his eye. "I do not intend to go down without a fight."

"It is just as well that we go to my mother first, then," Mary said, still thinking on Alec's words. "Scotland's rulers must show a united front. She must be made to understand that it will be Bash by my side when I return home." Mary looked over at Lola then, and turned her head to the side. "Still, I think perhaps you had better switch cloaks with me Lola. Mother's efforts to keep this quiet may prove useful."

Bash was a little disquieted by Mary's desire to continue Marie's planned ruse by switching cloaks with Lola, but he tried to push the thoughts aside. He trusted Mary – he _had_ to trust her. Every look, every action she had taken in the past 18 hours told him he could trust her with his heart as well as his life. But it was difficult to overcome the months and months of uncertainty that had preceded those 18 hours. What would happen when Mary faced her mother's disapproval?

At Mary's request, the quartet split up before they reached the castle proper. Alec and Bash were to follow a more circuitous route to Mary's chambers. The audience with her mother would take place in the outer room. They simply couldn't trust that there would be sufficient secrecy anywhere else, and in any case that is where the castle would expect Mary to be. When Alec and Bash arrived, they found that Marie de Guise was not yet there. Greer was sent to retrieve her while Kenna and Lola helped Mary freshen up and change in the inner chambers.

Waiting in the anteroom, Bash paced in front of the fire, anxious to get this visit over with. Just when he was thinking of marching out into the halls to find his new mother-in-law and end his torment, Marie de Guise obliged by appearing with Greer. She looked at her daughter's new husband appraisingly. Bash held her gaze, determined not to be the first to look away.

"I shall go get Mary," Greer said after a moment.

"No," Marie de Guise commandingly. "I want a word with the new bridegroom alone."

"I don't think –"

"Leave us!" the Regent barked out the order to both Alec and Greer. Bash silently gave a nod to his bodyguard, who took Greer by the elbow and steered her out the door once again.

When they were alone, the Scottish Regent returned to evaluating the young man before her. "So, you are the charming bastard who managed to seduce my daughter into running away with her."

Bash was prepared for this kind of remark, having expected little else. "I know I am not the prince of France that you were expecting Mary to wed," he began.

"You are not a prince at all yet," Marie interrupted. "Scotland needs a king it can believe in by the side of its queen. My daughter is still young and headstrong and could use a wiser head at her side to counsel her. You are a hothead with little knowledge of the ways of ruling."

"A failure of my early education that is quickly being corrected," Bash parried. "And Mary is wiser than you give her credit for. You have been away from her a long time. She has grown up. "

"And yet, somehow she agreed to forsake a sure alliance with the recognized heir to the French throne and instead risked her country by forcing King Henry to pursue the uncertain and controversial path of legitimizing you. Not to mention this latest . . . _indiscretion_." Marie said bluntly.

"You mean our marriage?" Bash said heatedly, his temper immediately rising at this characterization of the most precious moment of his life. "I love Mary and she loves me."

"Love!" Marie scoffed. "I am sure you made her think that. But let's be honest, you got tired of being nothing more than Henry's playmate and saw Mary as your route to power. And I will not allow it."

Bash narrowed his eyes, taking a step closer. "I never sought a crown, only Mary. But now that she is mine I will do _anything_ for her, even take my brother's crown. _No one_ is going to keep us apart."

"Actually I think there are many people who are going to make sure you are out of the way."

"Are you threatening me?" Bash's voice held a warning and his hand instinctively flew to his sword hilt.

"Yes mother, please do tell if you are threatening the King of Scotland," a new voice entered the conversation. Mary stood in the door to the inner chamber, scowling.

Marie cocked an eyebrow at her daughter, undeterred. "But he is _not_ the King of Scotland. Not yet."

Mary's gaze was disdainful. "You may not approve but I assure you we are lawfully married. He is protected from you and from King Henry. Any threat to him is a threat to Scotland – and a threat from you is treason."

"Your marriage alone does not make him king." Her mother's words startled Mary. "Not until he is crowned. Normally that would be done as part of the marriage ceremony. But you eloped, so it wasn't done."

"A mere technicality," Bash said dismissively.

"An important technicality," Marie admonished.

"Enough!" Mary said in her most commanding tone. "We are going to go tell King Henry that I have married Bash, and you mother are going to support this union whole heartedly. You are going to support this union not only because I am your daughter and this is what I want, but because this is what is best for Scotland – not Francis."

"How is marrying an illegitimate son what is best for Scotland?"

"Because Francis was a weak ally. When I was engaged to Francis, the dauphin had no ability to convince his father of anything, his mother was continually making attempts on my life, and the English felt free to terrorize me in this very castle. Not to mention Francis took every opportunity to make it clear that France would sell out it's Scottish alliance in a heartbeat if it thought that was better for France.

Bash and Marie both looked a little stunned at Mary's outburst against Francis. The older woman recovered first, however. "That may be, but now King Henry has the possibility of his son and grandchildren ruling three countries. Don't you think the situation has changed?"

"King Henry may talk about a strong alliance now, but the second the war with England turns against him, France will pull out and leave Scotland to its fate alone – after having cornered me into provoking the English by seeking to lay claim to the English throne in the first place."

Marie pondered Mary's words, clearly considering them. It was a little unnerving to Bash how quickly his new mother-in-law could switch from seething to calculating. "How exactly does marrying Sebastian fix any of that?" Marie questioned.

"Because when Bash becomes the dauphin, he will be able to convince his father to give Scotland the support we need. And when he is king, he will honor France's alliances, because Bash is a man of his word."

Marie turned to Bash, the wheels clearly still turning in her mind. "Can you give your word Bash that you will put Scotland ahead of France? Are you really ready to forsake your own country for that of a woman, however alluring you may now find her?"

"For my _wife_, yes. Mary's interest is my sole interest."

"And it is in France's interest to be seen as honoring its alliances with Scotland," Mary added. "So you see, there is no conflict."

Marie sighed and waved her hand in a sign of surrender. "Fine. I will support this when you go to King Henry, and I will support this in Scotland.

Bash was not convinced Marie's surrender was permanent, but he attempted to reassure Marie anyway, hoping a peace offering would reinforce the truce. "I will be by Mary's side, giving her counsel when she needs it and support in whatever she does. Here or in Scotland or anywhere else, it will be the same.

"Then let's get this over with," Marie said, gesturing toward the outer door. At Mary's nod, Bash began moving that way. Marie hung back, however, grabbing Mary's arm as Bash passed out of the room.'

"You have chosen a dangerous road Mary," the Regent murmured to her daughter. "If the Pope does not legitimize Bash, then you better be sure you're prepared for the consequences. You _must_ be married to the next King of France, no matter what."

Marie was speaking low, but Bash heard the remarks intended only for her daughter, and his blood ran cold. He had no doubt that if the word from the Pope came back denying the annulment to Catherine – and therefore his legitimization – that his throat would be slit that same day, on order of the Scottish Regent.

**Author's notes: Visits to family, sickness, and some lack of motivation all contributed to the long delay . . . sorry to keep you hanging! **


	7. Chapter 7: Down But Not Out

**Chapter 7: Down But Not Out**

Bash suspected that his father knew what they had come to say the moment his eldest son walked into the room with the two Scottish queens. The king listened to their tale, brief as it was, with less reaction than Bash had expected. Henry glanced at his son at a few points as Mary attempted to portray their elopement as in the furtherance of the interests of France. Bash suspected that the part of Henry that was a father was reluctantly proud of Bash for taking such a bold move to grasp at what he wanted. Henry valued that kind of initiative – when it wasn't directed at depriving the king of something he wanted. And the part of Henry that was king always won out over the part that was a father. Always.

King Henry leaned on the table, fingers splayed out. "That was very bold of you Sebastian, and very foolish of you Mary," he said.

"You always said the spoils go to the bold," Bash lifted his chin a little as he spoke.

"And I have been far safer at French court since Francis left and Bash became the Regent. The Queen of Scotland needs strong allies. That makes Bash a very wise choice," Mary added.

"You have been safer because Catherine has been locked up," Henry said bluntly. "And if the English find out that you have married Bash before he is legitimized you can be sure they will use it to their full advantage. They will undercut your support in England, weakening your claim to the throne, and they may decide to press you militarily on the Scottish border."

"In which case we expect our French allies to give us their full support," Marie de Guise interjected.

"Then you will be disappointed. Unless and until Mary is wed to my heir I am not embroiling my country in a war with England. Without the joined thrones there is no benefit to France."

"You certainly thought there was a benefit when you signed the marriage treaty," Marie seemed to be the only one in the room at all surprised by what King Henry was saying, and it embittered her.

"And Mary has now broken the marriage treaty."

"Which you broke first by not marrying Francis to Mary as soon as she arrived back at French court!" the Scottish Regent countered. Privately, Bash thought Marie had decided that Henry was most to blame for the current situation and had decided to take the French king to task.

"How fortunate for your daughter, since apparently she is in love with his illegitimate brother – or is that all a sham too," Henry pounced.

Mary drew herself up. "I do not need to explain my feelings to you. This is about France honoring its obligations to Scotland."

"And about Scotland honoring its obligations to France."

As the royal tempers were getting out of hand, Bash thought perhaps it was time to test Mary's theory that he was more likely to be able to convince his father to support Scotland than Francis. For the moment, he was the only one fully in control of his temper. When he spoke, he adopted that even cadence to his voice that made his words sounds like the voice of reason. "Right now we need to focus on keeping England at bay until our plans for the triple throne can come to fruition. So perhaps we should focus on what we do moving forward, rather than who is more to blame for the current state of affairs."

"Yes, which conveniently for you now means focusing on your legitimization." Henry snapped, still angry with his son for the perceived betrayal.

"Which is exactly what we agreed on months ago in the wine cellar," Bash countered evenly.

"How sad for you that now you can't change your mind," Mary lobbed a sarcastic barb at King Henry. Bash winced inwardly. That was not going to help matters.

"I still might!" Henry snapped. "And given what the English will do if they find out you are already married, to someone _other_ than the current heir to the French throne, it is in everyone's interest that we keep this marriage quiet. Until we hear from the Vatican, you are not to tell _anyone_ of your marriage. You, Mary, are going to continue to act as if you have not made up your mind, as if marrying Francis is a real possibility."

"You can't be serious!" Mary gasped.

Bash's hold on his temper evaporated instantly. Henry meant for Mary to continue to be wooed by Francis. "We are man and wife, our love consummated. You cannot possibly expect us to act as if that is not the case," Bash growled.

"Oh but I can, if you expect to have my support to the Vatican." 

"But Francis – I can't simply string him along that way!" Mary said, horrified.

"Do you really expect Francis to play along like a good little prince when doing so aids you in stealing his throne and giving it to his brother?" Henry countered. "He must believe there is still a chance for the two of you or he will have no incentive to cooperate. He has Medici blood in him after all. This last betrayal might just be the one that puts him over the edge and convinces him to tip off the English himself. No, he cannot know that you are already married, nor Catherine, nor anyone else in the castle. Your ladies in waiting better keep their mouths shut if they value their country, their queen or their lives."

"You are going too far." Even Marie de Guise seemed galled by Henry's suggestion.

"Those are my terms. Take them or leave them." Bash could sense that his father was enjoying this moment. His father loved this game of politics – and Henry had them cornered, without a doubt. The king was eating it up, tingling with eager anticipation for when they would surrender. Bash knew his father all too well.

Bash and Marie both looked at Mary. Bash was filled with a sense of dread watching her. He didn't think he could stand it if he was forced to _allow_ Francis to court his _wife_ as if their marriage vows meant nothing. Desperate plans to flee ran through his mind. There must be something, anything they could do besides this.

Mary was silent for a long moment, her eyes fixed on Henry, gauging how serious he was. Mary the girl was trying desperately to counter his points about the English threat and failing. Bash could tell when she admitted defeat by the little lift of her chin. With a heavy heart, Bash heard Mary the queen say, "Fine. We will not make our marriage public at court. The message to the Vatican that we are already married will be sent in secret."

"Good," Henry said, relaxing into a satisfied smile now that victory had been won. Bash, however, felt as if he was going to explode. This couldn't be happening.

But Mary was not finished. "But make no mistake, my favor will rest with Bash, and everyone will know it. If the Vatican is to be forced into legitimizing him, it must be known that my support lies with Sebastian. We must consolidate what gains he has made among the nobility during his time as Regent. I will _not_ pretend that I seek a marriage to Francis."

Relief flooded through Bash. Mary would not allow Francis to woo her, would not pretend to love him. And, it suddenly occurred to him, she had only agreed to deny their marriage in public. In private . . . .

The king considered her for a moment, weighing her words and then dismissed the conversation with a single word. "Fine." Henry reached for the carafe of wine and poured himself a glass. "Now, shall we drink to my son's happy wedding day?" he asked, and without waiting for a response threw back his head and downed the whole glass.

No one else in the room felt like joining him.


	8. Chapter 8: Undaunted

**Chapter 8: Undaunted**

Mary was sick to her stomach as she and Bash left the king's audience room. Her mother remained behind, seeming to think there was more to be discussed with the French monarch, but Mary couldn't stand being in his presence another moment. There was something not quite right about King Henry. She had seen a maniacal gleam in his eye when he was forcing them to his terms. Henry was often harsh, even cruel, but this was something else entirely.

The moment the door closed behind them, Bash turned to her, placing his hand on her arm as he had so often before. Somehow now it wasn't enough. Mary cringed at the distance between them. Bash noticed.

"Mary, we will get through this."

"Will we Bash? How can you be so sure?"

"Because I believe in us," Bash said simply, eyes rapidly scanning the hallway around them for threats from unfriendly ears or swords, either one.

"We've been married less than a day. If we were any other newlyweds we would be in a carriage headed away from this cursed place on our honeymoon. Instead we're trapped here pretending our wedding never happened and under threat from a man who is clearly losing his mind!" Her shrill tone betrayed the panic threatening to overpower her.

Bash glanced around again, and spotting what he was looking for, grabbed Mary's hand and started walking quickly to a small alcove nearby.

Mary let herself be led, still overwrought by what had just happened. "Bash, why aren't you worried about this? How can you just take this in stride?" Hearing her control slipping, Bash quickened his pace.

As soon as they reached the relative seclusion of the alcove, Bash quickly turned and kissed her deeply, one hand wrapped in her hair, the other arm around her waist grasping her to him. Mary froze, terror at being seen by King Henry paralyzing her momentarily, but it seemed as if Bash was intent on subduing her fear with the strength of his kiss.

In the face of Bash's relentless passion Mary's panic slowly subsided, and she relaxed into his embrace, enjoying the closeness. As he deepened the kiss, her fear was finally buried under her desire, and she fully returned his kiss with equal passion. Bash took a step back, surprised by the sudden surge of Mary's body pressing forward against him, and broke off the kiss. Seeing his bride's eyes alight with desire, Bash captured her mouth again briefly for a slower, more tender kiss, before finally releasing her lips.

Still holding her around the waist, hand cupping her cheek, Bash smiled at her with his quiet smile. "Now, what was it you were worrying about?" he asked.

Mary's returning smile was weak. She placed a hand on the wrist of his arm grasping her face and leaned her cheek into his caress. "I was worrying that we wouldn't be able to have moments like that."

"I think we just proved that we can." There was merriment in Bash's eyes.

"Bash, how can you be so at ease with all of this!" Mary said, stepping back from him and looking around hastily to see if anyone was approaching their alcove. "We can't be seen acting this way or Henry will withdraw his support for your legitimization! We can't admit we're married or England will grasp for _my_ throne!" Mary heard the panic creep into her own voice again but felt powerless to stop it.

Bash gave an impatient sigh. "I'm not at ease with it. I hate it as much as you do. But if we let ourselves be intimidated by them, then we are letting them win." He squeezed Mary's hands. "We _are_ married, and nothing they say or do will change that. It doesn't matter whether anyone else knows it. _We _ know it. I love you, Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, and I will always love you."

Bash had that look of adoration in his eyes, and looking at him looking at her, Mary was transported back to the first moment she gave in to that pull between them – that kiss by the lake. Then in rapid succession she thought of the long chain of other moments between then and now. Bash had always been there, always loving her. The panic subsided again, and she wondered how she could ever have mistaken her infatuation for Francis for love. Standing before her was the real thing. There was only one possible answer to his words.

"And I love you, Sebastian de Poitiers. I know it took me a long time to realize it, but I do."

Bash radiated joy at hearing her unequivocally admit it aloud at last. He jubilantly declared, "I don't care if I live for one day or for ten thousand. I have loved you and been loved by you, and that makes my life worth having lived."

Mary's reply was more sedate. "But I don't think I could stand it if I only had one day with you, Bash. We must be careful in public not to be too free with our affection, or people will begin to suspect."

Bash nodded. "All right. We will play Henry's game. It will make it all the sweeter when we succeed at last."

"I'm just sorry I won't be able to wake up every morning the way you woke me up this morning," Mary said a little saucily, her pluckiness finally returning.

Bash had a ready answer for that. "Lucky for us there's a secret passage to your chambers then."

Mary rewarded her cheeky husband with a kiss. He made her believe anything was possible. The odds might seem stacked against them, but in this moment Mary felt confident there was a bright future waiting for them just on the other side of this wall Henry had tried to build between them. And she intended to reach that future.


	9. Chapter 9: Hard Truths

**Chapter 9: Hard Truths**

Mary clasped her hands tightly in front of her. Every inch of her body was tense, but her training kept her poised, the urge to pace suppressed under an eerie calm. Her face was devoid of expression. She had been avoiding this confrontation all day.

It was a small miracle, in fact, that she had put it off this long. It had only been possible because she had stayed holed up in her chambers. At first she had been sequestered with her ladies in waiting, trying to forget the conversation with King Henry for a brief while by reliving the bliss of her wedding (and the night that followed) with her friends. Eventually the servants had brought in some food, and the ladies stood up and picked over the delicacies. Greer had tried to get her alone then for a brief conversation – something about Lola not sleeping the night before and knowing Mary hadn't been with Francis when they found Mary's empty bed – but Kenna had interrupted, and Mary had never heard the rest of whatever Greer had to say.

Mary's friends had left her when the Scottish Regent appeared, looking a little to smug for Mary's taste. Her mother seemed to be still in damage control mode, though, and was discussing how best to pave the way with the Scottish nobility for the eventual announcement of Mary's marriage to Sebastian. There was something off about this to Mary; it wasn't like her mother to give in so easily. But Mary tried to ignore the nagging feeling. Perhaps Henry's outrageous demands and obvious disdain for his promises to Scotland had made Marie de Guise see things Mary's way.

Through all of that, though, there was an unpleasant knot of fear in Mary's stomach, thinking of this conversation. There was no question that Francis had to be told sooner rather than later. The question that Mary was still trying to answer, however, was tell him what? Even now as she stood in this empty audience room, waiting for the servant to fetch the current Dauphin of France, Mary wasn't sure what she was going to say to him.

Her mind flitted back to the first moment she had seen him again, after his partially self-imposed exile from court. Mary had seen Lola first, but she had known the moment Francis set foot inside that hall, her gaze drawn to him instantly. She felt something toward him, she couldn't deny that. That first sight of him had tugged at her heart . . . but also left her confused and uncertain. She hadn't known how to act – or been certain what she was feeling. Mary remembered taking refuge in Lola's simultaneous return, trying to focus on that.

_How strange it was that Lola and Francis's paths had crossed so fortuitously as to allow them to arrive together at the castle. _

No sooner had that idle thought crossed Mary's mind, then the heavy wooden door opened, and a servant announced the arrival of Francis, Dauphin of France.

Mary swallowed. She was out of time.

"I require a private audience with Mary," Francis barely turned his head toward the servant as he spoke, eyes fixed on Mary.

The servant followed Francis's implicit command instantly. Mary remained where she was, pinned by that look in Francis's eyes. Guilt gnawed at her. He was looking at her with tenderness, and she was trying to take his crown away from him behind his back. It seemed horribly selfish suddenly – without the prophecy to hide behind, there was no way to argue that the plan to legitimize Bash was for Francis's own good.

But it _was_ for the good of Scotland, she told herself. She hadn't been making it up when she told her mother that the alliance with France would be more secure with Sebastian as the Dauphin. She really believed that.

_Isn't that convenient_, a traitorous voice whispered in her brain.

"So, after a night of prayer and a day of talking behind closed doors to everyone but me, you have nothing left to say?"

Francis's query broke through Mary's reverie. "This isn't an easy thing to say."

"I'll make it a little easier for you," Francis said, a sad smile on his face. "My brother Bash has returned to the castle and started cornering my father's privy councilors one by one for hushed and tense conversations, Diane is looking smug, and my father is avoiding me. So I would say you said something to give Bash hope again."

"Francis. . ." Mary began, pity beginning to creep in over the expressionless façade she had so diligently been maintaining.

"What I want to know, is why Mary," Francis said, stepping close to her. "I know you love me. And I love you. And there is no prophecy clouding your mind. So why won't you just agree to Mary me? Why keep stringing Bash along, thinking he has a chance at the throne, at you?"

This was every bit as uncomfortable as Mary was afraid it would be. She had said that Bash would have her favor, and that everyone would know that – which meant including Francis. "I am not stringing him along, Francis. I mean to follow through with my plan."

"No you don't," Francis said fiercely. "You can't mean to. I don't know what game you are playing at Mary, I don't know what advantage you think this will give you, or what you are punishing me for. But I know how you feel. You can deny it all you want but whatever you think you feel for him, you love me more."

There it was, the lie that had to be dispelled, the opening for her to tell the truth . . . but Francis had been her first love . . . and she still struggled to say the words that she knew would hurt him.

"Attachments change," Mary said tightly, turning away from him, hands still clasped in front of her. "As you should know." She was thinking of Olivia. Francis had been Mary's first love – but Mary hadn't been his first anything. The thought buoyed her. She couldn't let tenderness get in the way. She had to do this for Scotland.

"Is that was this is about?" Francis said incredulously. "Are we having this conversation again?"

Mary paused, thinking. This was an opening she hadn't expected. This was a way to hold Francis at arm's length, to give him a reason he could accept for why she was bestowing her favor on Bash, without making Francis so bitter as to betray them to the English or do some other equally rash and harmful thing.

"You are like your father, Francis."

"This is about Lola isn't it," Francis declared. "She told you."

Mary was very glad that she was still turned away from him, because otherwise she was sure that her startled look would have given her away. Lola?

"Mary it meant nothing, it was just a single night of comfort," Francis said desperately.

Mary couldn't prevent the sharp intake of breath. That was far more than expected. Suddenly she put it together – the arrival of the two of them at the castle, what Greer had been trying to tell her earlier today . . . Her sense of betrayal suddenly becoming very real, Mary spun around to face him. "A single night Francis? Are you sure it was really only one?" she asked harshly, taking a gamble. The guilty look on his face told her it had paid off.

"Mary, we were just talking last night," Francis said, "I love you, and only you."

The implicit admission in his words angered Mary. She knew it was irrational since she had married Bash, after all, and yet . . . her best friend? Of all the women in France, he had to choose on of her best friend? How could he be so insensitive? "I will not be married to a man with a wandering eye, who is so disrespectful as to let his roaming hands land on his fiancé's best friend."

"You were not my fiancé Mary," Francis retorted, his own sense of injustice bringing heat to his words. "You had declared your intention to marry my brother and take my crown away from me."

"Then it seems very little has changed, and there is nothing else for us to say to each other," Mary said sweeping past him out of the room. She needed to have a conversation with Lola. It seemed Mary had even fewer people in whom she could trust than she thought.

**Author's Notes: So yeah, Mary is definitely feeling a bit conflicted here . . . and this is perhaps not her most shining moment as a person (though kudos to her as a queen for recognizing the opportunity and using it.) For the record I actually think she doesn't have a ton of room to be angry at Lola & Francis. But there is the code "don't date ex's of friends, or friends of ex's", which they definitely violated. So I thought it was realistic that she would have some conflicting emotions about the whole thing. **

**Plus the Lola – Francis reveal at this juncture is just such a convenient explanation for Mary to use to aid this little charade . . . **


End file.
